Yixing smiles and bows as the man leaves. He’s always very nice and polite when he comes in. It’s appreciated, working in the service industry. As much as Yixing likes people, he often doesn’t like their attitude. He knows he’s not all that quick on the uptake, but some people can just be plain mean.

But he’ll forgive a bad day now and then.

A week and a half later brings his mysterious patron back in his free pass bad mood.

“Hello!” Yixing greets brightly. “What can I get you?” One of these days, he’ll figure out this guy’s signature drink. Everyone has one, in his experience.

Squinting at the sign, the man scowls behind his mask and ducks deeper into his hood. “Whatever will make me not strangle my boss,” he mumbles. Yixing barely understands his words, but his posture and narrowed eyes enunciate the point.

“I know just the thing. Be right back.” He doesn’t bother asking for a name; there’s no line.

The man walks down the counter to cross his arms over the pick-up area. A couple of the scant seated patrons cast looks his way, which he ignores. A magazine left by a coworker sits nearby; he flips through it and finds and article to glower at.

Yixing doesn’t dress up the drink at all. It’s simple--and best in its purest form.

He secures a lid on the cardboard cup and sets it at the corner of the magazine, where it’s immediately seen and cautiously taken. “Careful,” he says, “it’s hot.”

“Speak for yourself...” The man mumbles and pulls his mask down to smell the drink and slowly sip it.